Feeling: You and me
by Darkeyes17
Summary: Second in the "Feeling" Series RP'd with Katea-Nui. Ratchet was feeling alive and well after the healing merge. So what could possibly happen to make him feel sick? TwinsXRatchet fluff.


**A/N: Ok, here is the sequel, the second in the series of oneshots in the 'Feeling' series, centring around hurt/comfort Ratchet x Twins. This is RP'd with the amazing, the wonderful: KATEA-NUI! She has been truly wonderful to work with as a writer and a person. She is so dedicated that she stays up til 4am to make up with the time difference between our countries. *Round of applause*.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Transformers (if we did, do you think we'd make Starscream so ugly in the movies?)**

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><p><strong>Feeling: You and Me – plus three? <strong>

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><p>Ratchet purged, hanging his helm over the ledge of the waste bucket, alone in his quarters. It had been three days since his healing bonding session with his lovely (and idiot) bondmates, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Slumping to his knee joints, Ratchet cycled air rapidly, processor going at a rapid run of thoughts. What could possibly be wrong with him? He was feeling fantastic before this morning. He felt lively, joyous, and felt youngling-like again, all thanks to the stubborn will of the Twins.<p>

And then, he had woken up, glad to be rostered on a bit later and so he had slept in. And he had needed it. Both of his bondmates had been rather...active last night.

"Guh," he grunted, wiping off the stale energon he had purged that had splattered around his mouthplates.

As he got up, he shot out an arm to the wall to steady himself, feeling a sudden bout of dizziness.

"What the frag?" Ratchet cursed under his breath.

He had never felt like this in his lifestream.

With steely resolve, the medic set out to find out what was causing him to be more unwell than he had been in a very long time.

Ratchet had barely made it to the door, when his empty tanks threatened to purge again. Primus! This was annoying! He shouldn't have caught any kind of virus, he had all the updated software to protect against that. It couldn't be his hours or work schedule. It would make no sense, seeing as he had worked crazier ones back on Cybertron and nothing but exhaustion had been a problem then. And nightmares. Can't forget those. The medic leaned forward a little, resting his forehelm against the cold metal of their quarters and waiting for the nauseating feeling to disperse and leave. He focused on taking deep intakes.

Through his bond he could feel both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's concern. He sent back a wave of assurance before he gathered his will and stood straight with a slight grimace. The medbay was only across the hall where all of his equipment was and it comforted him to know that he would soon be able to diagnose his condition. If he even _had _a condition...

On second thought...to be sure, Ratchet commed First Aid, who was currently on shift in the medbay.

:Aid. It's Ratchet. Can you set up some basic scanners for me?:

:Sure. Who's sick?: came the calm reply.

:...Me:

:Oh! Ok, don't worry boss, we'll get you back to normal in no time!: First Aid replied chipperly, before closing the link. Ratchet huffed in relief. He could trust his protégée to be discreet and confidential. He walked slowly out of his quarters that he shared with the twins, willing his tanks to settle enough so he could make it to the other side of the hallway to the back entrance of his office, and then to the sanctuary of the medbay. He shuffled his pedes, hoping that no one would come along the hallway.

With a sigh of relief, Ratchet opened his back office door and slipped in quietly, cycling the door shut.

Not two seconds later, he bolted forward and purged again into the nearest wastebucket.

The medic wasn't sure whether or not he should be relieved or humiliated when, not five klicks later, the Protectobot trainee found him still hunched over the waste bin, shaking. He was grateful that his student didn't make condescending remarks or try to comfort him. It was only a small relief to the unsettlement in his tanks and the tilting of his equilibrium every time he tried to stand. With the help of First Aid, he managed to make it to the main med bay and onto a berth where he sat with his helm in his servos.

"Boss, I can run the scans if you'd rather..." First Aid offered quietly, a little hopeful that his mentor wouldn't insist on doing this himself when he was obviously not feeling well.

Ratchet made a non-committal noise in his throat, but motioned for the Protectobot to continue. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he could read any scans without getting sick at the moment.

"Ok. Just...let me know if I'm doing something wrong, ok?" asked First Aid, who was slightly nervous. He had healed many of the Ark bots, but he had never tended to his mentor. He removed his mask, just to let Ratchet see how genuinely nervous he was about this task. Simple, yes. But it would be of the utmost embarrassment (in his own mind) if he in some way messed it up.

Ratchet let out a half-chuckle. "Aid, I trained you. Of course you'll do nothing wrong."

The visored mech beamed at the CMO, swiftly and carefully connecting each scanner to their precise place, and when that task was completed, picked up the hand-held spark scanner and held it over the ambulance chestplates of the medibot.

"Alright...system scans engage: now," muttered First Aid.

The machines whirred to life, little sounds of machinery ticking away echoed around the cavernous room of the medbay.

"Pfft, you were worried about this? A simple job? Aid, I will get you to practise on me more often. I'm your mentor, not just your boss," Ratchet admonished, although his tone was fond and light. He pressed his lips together tightly after that statement, feeling another wave of nausea threaten the remaining energon in his tank.

"Uh..." First Aid wasn't so sure he agreed with that, but he decided that if Ratchet was confident, then he would just have to be as well. The scanners had finished their work, and he was now checking them over. And he was as he read through code after code, he grew more confused as his confidence waned. All the codes looked normal, nothing out of place to indicate any sort of infection, tank virus or otherwise. Yet there was always one line of code that just would not go away... and he had never been taught what it meant. "Boss?"

Ratchet frowned at the worried note his student's voice had taken. "Primus, Aid! We need to work on your self confidence."

"I-it's not that..." Catching the look from his mentor he amended, "Entirely. There's just... There's a line of code here you've never shown me before."

Never shown...? But infection and virus codes were the first things he'd taught First Aid and Swoop. Could living on Earth have created a new type of infection?

"Let me see." He murmured quietly, reaching for the scanner.

He turned the face of the scanner towards him, scanning the line of code that First Aid was pointing to...

...and promptly hurled his energon over the side of the berth.

No way. No...no, it couldn't be right. Any bond merge before hadn't...

"Aid," Ratchet choked out, static seeming to fizzle in his audios ominously, "Did you calibrate this correctly when you came in this morning?" He hoped that this was some sort of mistake. It HAD to be a mistake.

"Yes, sir. I did it exactly as you told me to," answered the Protectobot. His mentor's expression was beginning to alarm him now.

"No...No, I can't..." sputtered Ratchet. His hands were beginning to tremble and shake.

"Sir?" First Aid asked quietly.

Optics bright with shock, Ratchet whispered, "Aid, this code means...this code means that I'm with spark."

Silence.

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Wow...um...err...congratulations?" said the younger medic, wondering if that was the right thing to say in Ratchet's current statement.

"And not only that...I'm with twins."

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><p>::I'm worried, Sunny.:: Sideswipe said over their internal bond, his engine revving uncertainly as he sped across the dessert, looking forward to getting back to the Ark after a long patrol with Hound. Sunstreaker was on monitor duty, forgetting to be bored as he watched their lover through the cameras.<p>

::He's in the med bay.:: The golden twin informed him. ::And I don't know if he looks too good... You don't think we were too hard last night?::

Sideswipe made a disbelieving sound. ::Oh please, so we got a little enthusiastic. Not like we haven't in the past and he's come out fine.::

One thing not many knew about Sunstreaker was that he was insecure about a lot of things. Hard to believe when the Bot practically oozed confidence where the others could see them. Yet, both he and Ratchet knew that it took a lot for the golden warrior to reassure himself, with or without their help. And Ratchet was just one of those things.

:I think we should check on him. I have a feeling in the depths of my spark...: said Sunstreaker softly over their bond, tilting his helm to the side so he could pretend that he was doing work.

:Wait for me. I'll meet you at the end of shift and we'll go see what's wrong: and then the red twin added, knowing that his brother's insecurity was most likely plaguing his mind right now, :and don't worry. If we went too rough on Ratchet last night, he would have commed us first thing in the morning to call us glitch heads.:

Sunstreaker quirked his lips in an almost smile and replied :Fine. I'll be waiting.:

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><p>Ratchet vented deeply, turmoil making his nausea even worse. First Aid, ever the observant one, had patched an energon feed through to his main energon lines so he would still function even if he continued to purge.<p>

The medic's frame shook on the medberth. He didn't know what to do. His apprentice was rubbing his back softly, trying to comfort but uncertain. Understandable. Ratchet himself wasn't just uncertain, he was beside himself! He had snapped shut his bond with the twins – but was still panicking. They had never discussed the idea of offspring, of little sparklings toddling around their pedes. Primus! This was unexpected and unplanned, and Ratchet had no clue what he should do.

Extinguishing the little ones were out of the question. That much he was sure of.

But doubts crept into his processor, worming their sinister tendrils within his psyche. What if the twins found out and they didn't want him anymore?

What if they wanted to get rid of the sparklings? Primus knew that he wanted them. He had wanted younglings since before the Academy. Had always imagined having a family one day. And there wasn't only the Twins to consider. They were at _war_! How would Optimus react? He wouldn't get rid of them, the medic knew better than to think that. But there was nowhere for them to go...what if there were no other choices? What if -

The medic had worked himself up so much that the next wave of half processed energon hurt as it came up. He gagged and coughed, clearing his intakes of the foul smelling stuff, before placing his helm against the cool metal of the med berth, his entire chassis shaking.

"Ratchet, do you want me to call the twins?" the young Protectobot medic asked quietly.

"No!" Ratchet blurted, wiping away the putrid liquid off his mouthplates, before saying softer, "No...I need...I need to figure out...something."

"All the same sir, you need to rest until you can stop purging. From the little I know of sparkling care, I know the purging means you need a different grade energon to cater for the sparkling sparks needs. Hoist, Swoop, Wheeljack and I can take care of the medbay, but how do you make the different grade energon?" First Aid asked calmly, letting all the knowledge that Ratchet had instilled in him take over instinctually.

The cool metal against his helm had soothed him somewhat, but his vocal tone was still shaking when he gasped out, "Wheeljack. Get...get 'Jack, he'll know what to do. And physically go get him and lock..." the sparked mech let out a harsh cough before continuing, "lock the medbay door. I don't want anyone to come in, and I don't trust the security of the comms. No one must know right now, Aid, but you, me, and Wheeljack."

"'Kay." The tone of First Aid's voice reminded Ratchet that, technically, was still a youngling as well. He groaned as the Protectobot hurried from the bay to fetch his creator.

_'Frag it all_,' the medic thought, doubling over again. If there was one thing he knew for absolute certainty at this point, it was that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were going to suffer very slow, very painful reconstruction to their interface units.

After a few seconds, Ratchet retracted that statement. No, he would just reconfigure them into toasters.

"Damn, you little ones are already giving me as much trouble as your creators," Ratchet half-groaned, half-chuckled. He rubbed at his abdominal plates, trying to soothe his ominously rumbling tank. It didn't seem to work. Almost absently, a hand drew up to rub at his chestplates, at the sensitive seam just above his spark. After a few rubs, his systems started to calm down slightly. Using all his accumulated medical knowledge, Ratchet offlined his optics and focussed within himself, into his spark.

He bypassed the two blocks that led to Sideswipes and Sunstreaker' sparks. No, he mentally focussed around the spark, trying to find the small balls of light and energy that would someday soon be his sparklings.

There! Ratchet felt absolute wonderment as he felt, for the first time, his sparklings. Oh, he had no idea of gender, and there was no sophisticated thought, but there were slight flashes of feelings.

They knew that he was their carrier. He could tell by the tiny pulses of love he felt.

It made him almost want to cry.

Both with joy and anguish.

What if the twin's didn't want this? These beautiful beings just waiting to live, just waiting to open their little optics and take their first intake of air for the first time. Would the little ones have to worry about not having creators if the twin's reacted unfavourably?

As Ratchet began to feel sick again, another revelation hit him. If he was distressed, so were the mini-sparks alongside his own, exacerbating the effect on his systems.

Now he knew what all those carriers had felt... For every carrier he had told to stay calm, they must have been feeling like this. Distressed, worried, happy, joyful... it was all one big mash of feelings that made it impossible to focus on 'calm'.

'Primus you really hate me, don't you?' Ratchet groaned inwardly, throwing an arm over his optics. That felt better. The lights had not helped with the nausea.

He didn't move when he heard the doors slide open, because the request ping was Wheeljack's code. The inventor walked in, First Aid trailing behind him and the door cycled shut with a small beep that let Ratchet know it had been coded locked. Thank Primus.

"Aid said something was wrong." He heard Wheeljack's voice beside him and the soft clank as he picked up the scanner. "Something you can't solve, Doc?"

His voice was full of cheer.

"Gee, I'm sparked up by the two most violent frontliners in the Autobot Army. You tell me," Ratchet spat scathingly. Wheeljack was too cheery for his tastes right about now.

"Way to ease into a conversation like _that_, Ratchet," Wheeljack chuckled, but saw the warning look on the older medic's face and wisely refrained from any further teasing, instead asking, "You'll need both the sparkling design program I have and the carrier-grade energon recipe then I take it?" He scanned Ratchet's chestplates, wanting to make sure for himself what Ratchet said was true. One couldn't be too careful.

"Please and thank you. It would be so great if you could make that energon. Now," said Ratchet, lying back and sinking into the berth.

Humming thoughtfully, Wheeljack replied, "It'll take too long to make it if you need it right now. I'll work on it, but until then, try these ore additives, they should do the trick. They mimic carrier energon." The scanner had finished and confirmed both First Aid's and Ratchet's findings. Ratchet was sparked up.

Ratchet made a noise of gratitude.

"Hey Aid, could you go take an hour break? I need to have some confidential time with Ratchet," Wheeljack asked gently, vocal flanges flickering a kind blue.

The younger medic nodded, waved goodbye to Ratchet, and left, locking the medbay doors behind him.

"Way to drop something last minute on a trainee, Ratch." Wheeljack teased softly, pulling a stool up beside his long time friend. "I _know _you know all of this, so why did you have Aid come get me?"

Ratchet gave his friend a withering glare from under his arm before sighing. "As you can see, I'm not really in the condition to move."

"Uh-huh. The Twins could have taken care of that. So spill. What's got you brooding so much. I thought you wanted this."

There was silence for a few moments before Ratchet's voice answered at the quietest Wheeljack had ever heard it. "I do, 'Jack. PRIMUS, I do!"

"So? Yeah, your hellions aren't maybe the first things that come to CPU when one says 'creator', but you know they-"

"What if they don't want them?" Ratchet said quietly, causing his friend to stare.

"You... You haven't told them?" Wheeljack's voice was soft, surprised, his helm fins flashing yellow in slight alarm.

Ratchet avoided his closest friend's gaze as he answered, "No."

***Clang**!*

"OW! You slagging bolt spewed glitch! What was that for?" yelped Ratchet, rubbing his helm where the inventor had smacked it, "I'm usually the one hitting, not the other way round."

Wheeljack sighed and retracted his mask, revealing his scarred face to the cool air of the medbay. He rubbed the bridge of his nasal ridge in exasperation, saying, "Ratch, they are your bondmates for one thing. For another, you are glitching to not have called them here as soon as you knew. They have a right to know, regardless of their reactions. Primus, they knew what they were getting into bonding with you - a lifelong supply of grumpiness and a possible family, right?"

Ratchet glared at the 'lifetime of grumpiness' comment, but replied, "We've never discussed it though. Us having sparklings. They know about my longing for them, but we've never talked about it. It's kind of one of the last priority things we talk about."

Shaking his helm in amusement, Wheeljack couldn't resist teasing, "I'm sure you...er..talk about other things...on the berth."

It was Wheeljack's turn to yelp as Ratchet threw his wrench at him, but missed, due to another wave of nausea forcing him to lay down on the berth. Remembering the additives, the Lancia poured them into a cube of energon, pushing it into Ratchet's hands and making him drink it. It would do the CMO a world of good.

Ratchet muttered a small 'thank you' before gingerly sipping at the contents of the cube. When it seemed that it would stay down, he took a longer gulp. When he found that he could keep it all down, he breathed a sigh of relief. He held the empty cube and stared at it, seeing nothing. Silence reigned for several more moments.

"It's not just... It's not just the Twins." He continued, his chassis beginning to shake again. "We're at WAR, Wheeljack. How am I supposed to raise younglings in a war? How would the Twins react? Knowing that everyday could be their last? That they would have their own set of sparklings waiting for them to come home even though they may not...I don't-" the medic choked off with a small whine, trying to get his turbulent emotions in control before continuing. "I don't think I could live through that."

The inventor huffed and said, "You are such a drama queen at times. Harsh, yes. Blunt yes. But true. You worry way too much about things out of your control. They are valid concerns," Wheeljack pointed out, helm fins flashing blue intermittently as he talked, "but you cannot control them until you know for certain."

"Meaning?" grumbled Ratchet. Wheeljack was always bluntly right.

"Meaning...I am being the worst and best friend in the world today by calling your hellion bondmates here, right now," answered Wheeljack. He had to duck as another wrench got thrown his way.

"WHEELJACK!" yelled Ratchet. No way, he wasn't ready, no, no, no, no, no!

"Yep!" the crazy inventor winked, but continued in a more serious tone, "Live in the moment Ratchet. You saved Sunstreaker a few days and are now with spark. I think Primus is trying to tell you something. You guys are going to be fine, just tell them already!" He injected his voice with as much encouragement as he could. He knew Ratchet. This would only be healed if it was out in the open for the twins to see and take care of.

Ratchet could feel his stress levels rising, the mere thought of what his bondmates may say terrifying him. In almost no time, there were two permission pings in his HUD, which he firmly blocked. They came again, and he refused to grant entrance. Wheeljack gave him a look.

"Ratchet, I WILL open the door manually..."

The medic felt like the apocalypse was coming upon him. His own personal apocalypse. And he was going to invite it in, knowing it was inevitable.

"Fine," he snarled at the inventor, opening the doors through the code and his HUD giving him the green light.

Two frontliners burst through the doors, worried faceplates showing mild relief when they saw their lover and bondmate, intact, and wearing his usual Ratchet-y scowl. Paying no heed to Wheeljack - who was watching with amusement - they rushed over to Ratchet in a blur of red and yellow, wrapping around his frame snugly and embracing him tightly.

"Hey!" protested Ratchet, squirming a little from the hold they had on him. Not uncomfortable, but this was in front of one of his oldest friends!

"We were worried about you Ratchet," whispered the golden twin softly, vulnerability lacing his voice which was only loud enough for his sparkmates to hear.

Ratchet had to quickly quell the wave of guilt that washed over his spark. He did automatically reach to clasp a reassuring hand over the frontliner's forearm. the other wrapped around Sideswipe as best it could from the squashed position.

"It's nothing Sunstreaker." He was embarrassed by the way his voice shook.

"Like _**pit **_it isn't!" Wheeljack snerked and the same moment that Sideswipe gently accused, "Liar."

It would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so serious. Sideswipe's and Sunstreaker's helms whipped Wheeljack's way.

"What do you mean?" the question was from Sunstreaker, his optics bright with accusation.

Wheeljack merely shook his helm. "THAT would be overstepping boundaries. Ratchet needs to tell you. The only thing I will say, is that no matter what he tells you to the contrary, it _is_ serious."

The glare that was sent his way could have peeled paint from the ARK's walls.

"Ratchet," Sideswipe said edgily, "What in the pit does he mean?"

Grinding his jaw in stubbornness and in terror of what he had to reveal, Ratchet replied tersely, "Fine, I'll tell you, but this is not a conversation for the medbay." With another glare sent Wheeljack's way, the CMO took his twin bondmates hands and led them through to his office, then out the back door and to the hallway where the door opposite led to his quarters. Without looking at either twin, Ratchet typed in the code, palmed the door open, before stalking inside and making the frontliner's sit on their couch.

"Ok, first of all, both of you, don't say a word until after I explain. Second of all, I am panicking, which is why I still continue to close the bond until...until your reaction indicates what I should do," demanded Ratchet, but with a wobble in his voice.

Both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker nodded.

Rubbing his chevron to comfort himself, Ratchet shuttered his optics and said, "Now, what I'm about to say will shock you. I'm going to do it blunt. I don't know how it happened, I don't know how this will affect our relationship." He opened his optics to see the stricken and anxious faceplates of his lovers. The moment of truth was upon them.

With a great heave of his vents, Ratchet hugged himself and whispered, just loud enough to be heard, "I'm with spark. You are going to be creators."

There was a long moment of stunned silence. A very long moment that seemed to stretch an eternity to Ratchet's racing CPU. The unresponsiveness of his lovers and bondmates was neither bad, nor good. And Ratchet couldn't decide if it was better than if they had laughed out loud and accused him of pulling off a prank. But it was better than all out disgust. He could already feel his tanks churning, slightly thankful that they were now completely empty – save for the additive energon that had gone straight into his lines – but not revelling in the sharp pain it brought him.

He glanced up from where he had welded his gaze to the floor, trying to see if he could gauge the Twins' expressions. He kept the bond tightly closed. The blank, astonished looks were not the last things he expected, and were in fact much better than the outright denial he had fully been prepared for, but he really wished they would say something... anything to keep this silence from echoing in his panicking CPU.

"You're serious?" Sideswipe asked quietly.

Ratchet nodded, his gaze once again on anything but his lovers.

"Primus..." mumbled Sunstreaker, rigid in his astonishment.

In silence, the golden twin seemed to come out of his shock induced stupor first by shaking his helm, considering Ratchet carefully, before letting his actions do the talking. He stood, reached for Ratchet, and held him tight to his chest - tucking the chevroned helm into his neck - before lightly kissing the top of Ratchet's helm. Ratchet whimpered softly, feeling wave after wave of love flood into his spark from Sunstreaker. The little sparklets within him felt the love and seemed to dance with joy. He sighed deeply, sagging into the strong hold of Sunstreaker's arms.

The golden plated mech leaned back slightly, cupping Ratchet's cheek in his hand, looking intently into his optics before saying, "Thank you." And he pressed his lips to Ratchet's making the kiss soft, slow, and sweet, still sending love through the bond.

Ratchet pulled back, whipping his helm around to Sideswipe, who sat there with a big, silly grin on his face.

"I'm gonna be a creator," the red Lamborghini whispered, before he stood up and jumped on the couch, yelling joyfully, "I'm going to be A CREATOR! I'M GONNA BE A DAD!"

Ratchet looped his arms around Sunstreaker's neck, sagging in relief so completely that his lover had to pick him up.

Sideswipe bounded off the couch, wrapping them all in a group hug, nuzzling happily against both his bondmates.

"Aw, Ratch, did you think we wouldn't want them?" asked Sideswipe, quieting his tone and kissing the medic's forehelm gently.

Ratchet nodded, causing Sunstreaker to reply fiercely, "Never think that. We'd want them. They were conceived in our love, so it could never be wrong. They are a part of you and us, and they are ours - no one is going to take that away from us." He laid a hand protectively and possessively over Ratchet's chestplates above his spark, optics burning bright with love and a protective desire. Sideswipe fed his own emotions of elation and love through the bond as Ratchet released the block, making them all sigh in relief.

There was another stunned silence and Ratchet could feel the shock over the bond making him instantly wary.

"Ratchet..." Sideswipe whispered, his arms tightening just that much more around the medic's waist. Before the docbot could question his bondmate, the golden warrior in front of him captured his lips in another kiss, this one overjoyed and desperate.

"Twins," Sunstreaker murmured after the kiss broke. "We're going to have-" his sentence broke off with a happy sound and he crushed his medic to his chestplates.

Ratchet was once again instantly relieved when Sideswipe echoed his brother's joy and pulled the CMO into his own kiss.

As Sideswipe's glossa swiped against his own, Ratchet moaned, but then pulled off and said, "Yes, twins. And they are giving me as much trouble as you two are. I was purging this morning something fierce."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe both chuckled softly, but comforted him gently, and Sunstreaker leaned down to rest his helm against Ratchet's chestplates as if trying to listen to the sparklings. In an odd-sounding tone, he muttered, "Now, you two be good to your father. Dad and Papa don't want to be in the proverbial dog-house with all the purging you two are making him do. Be good, ok?" He pressed a light kiss there, and looked up to see Ratchet staring off into the distance in wonderment.

"Sunny...they...they were really happy when you spoke to them. They are giving little flashes of love again, and it feels like they are dancing within my chest," Ratchet breathed, placing a hand over where the golden twin had kissed. He opened his bond even further, letting the twin's know what it felt like. They gasped as they felt the sparkling's fledgling emotions. They all shared happy, gratitude filled grins.

"Wow, that's awesome...but hey Sunny?" Sideswipe questioned, his devilish smirk fixed firmly in place, "Have you already decided what the sparklings will call us?"

"Well, of course. Creator will refer to you and I, carrier to Ratchet, but we all have our own individual calls. Ratchet will be the father, you will be the papa, and I will be dad. Simple. It fits." He shrugged, leaning in to pick Ratchet up, who was now feeling exhausted.

"The two of you have spent entirely too much time around humans," Ratchet muttered, squirming in between his bondmates.

The matching grins he received were unrepentant. Then one slowly turned into a frown. Gold and white looked at red. "What's wrong Sides?" Ratchet asked.

Sideswipe frowned a little more and cocked his head to the side as if listening. Ratchet could feel him reaching across the bond to their sparklings, and the medic wondered if the red twin was trying to have a conversation with them.

"Ratch... There's supposed to be twins... Right?"

Ratchet nodded and Sunstreaker growled impatiently, wanting to get Ratchet to rest, "What's your point bit brain?"

"I'm just wondering... why I sense three different pulses..."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ANOTHER BIG THANK YOU TO KATEA-NUI! You were absolutely wonderful in this. I look forward to the next one shot, you wonderful writer, you.**

**Please review, and kill two birds with one stone! Err, *ahem* I mean, stroke two writing ego's in one go! (Have you noticed I'm in a rather silly mood? I can't even concentrate on writing the next chap of Heat).**


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